


Breathe, Please.

by BuickTom



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Also russia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, I spent an hour on google, I wouldn't do my boys like that, I'm Sorry, M/M, MY SWEET SUMMER CHILD, Medical Jargon, Mild Blood, My First Fanfic, Sorry Viktor, Whump, a whole lot of hurt first tho, but my boy has been through a lot, eventually, not really - Freeform, okay, or unsurprisingly?, please be kind, probably a lot of inaccuracies, research was attempted, surprisingly homophobic, you didn't deserve this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24253930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuickTom/pseuds/BuickTom
Summary: After a short-notice trip to Japan, Yuuri returns home to his worse nightmare. Viktor isn't okay.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri & Yuri Plisetsky, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 14
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter I

Yuuri Katsuki did not like flying. He also did not like borscht or how Makkachin smelled after an afternoon at the beach or that Viktor sometimes left his towel on the bathroom floor after he showered.

Yuuri did not like all of these things. And yet he still took Makkachin to Lake Ladoga in the summer. And yet the morning he had left for Japan, he’d stepped on Viktor’s still damp towel as he’d gotten out of the shower. And, well, he tried to avoid borscht as much as possible. But the first two were mere inconveniences in the face of his affections for his dog and his fiancé. Flying was a little bit like that for Yuuri. If it took two days, four layovers, three security checks, and a lot of boredom to get back to Viktor Nikiforov, then Yuuri would do it. Every single time. To be honest, there weren't a whole lot of things Yuuri Katsuki wouldn't do for Viktor Nikiforov.

He reminded himself of this as both of his seat partners’ heads dropped onto his shoulders on the seventeenth hour of the flight (Viktor always admonished him for flying economy, but Yuuri suspected he needed to maintain some of his sensibility so they could afford Viktor’s mostly endearing, and somewhat expensive, tastes). He reminded himself of it as his stomach staged a revolted when things got a little turbulent in a storm over Southeastern Russia. He almost forgot it as he lugged his carry-on off the plane at the St. Petersburg airport at 3:14 am feeling like he had been shot with a horse tranquilizer. Still, somehow he managed. After collecting his luggage and disembarking the plane with the efficiency of a seasoned traveler, Yuuri paused in his power walk through the vacant airport to text Viktor. He tried his best to smother his grin at the last few texts.

_Vitya: Yuuriiiiiiii!_

_Vitya: hurry up!!! < (>. <)> i miss you _

_The Tastiest Pork Cutlet: I’m trying_

_The Tastiest Pork Cutlet: :)_

_Vitya: how can you calmly send smiley faces while im in pain? The audacity_

_The Tastiest Pork Cutlet: ok :(_

_Vitya: thats not what i meant darling_

_The Tastiest Pork Cutlet: So hard to please_

_Vitya: only for u ;)_

_The Tastiest Pork Cutlet: I’ve noticed_

_Vitya: Yuuri’s gotten so mean! Is someone grumpy? do you need kisses to make you feel better ;););)_

_The Tastiest Pork Cutlet: That would be great except I’m currently in Ufa :( its really coming down..._

_The Tastiest Pork Cutlet: I'm worried my flight will be delayed_

_Vitya: noooooo :(_

_Vitya: it's okay ill be sure to shower my Yuuri with all the love u deserve when u get home :)_

_The Tastiest Pork Cutlet: I miss you so much_

_Vitya: me too_

_The Tastiest Pork Cutlet: Oh it looks like we're boarding now! I'll let you know when I land_

_Vitya: you sure u dont want me pick u up from the airport?_

_The Tastiest Pork Cutlet: no, it’s alright, I’ll be okay getting home_

_Vitya: if you say so :/_

_Vitya: I love you Yuuri_

_The Tastiest Pork Cutlet: love you too_

_Read 11:32 pm_

Sometimes, seemingly at random, it occurred to Yuuri just how very much in love he had fallen with Vitkor and just how very much he had stayed that way. Yuuri hadn’t ever spent much time envisioning what love might be like before he met Viktor. He hadn’t ever thought he’d have it, but it was so much different, so much better than anything he could have ever conjured up. And right now the one thing Yuuri wanted the most in the world was to curl up with Viktor in their bed and feel the other man’s warm breath rasp over the shell of his ear and his solid chest rise and fall against Yuuri’s. Just the thought of it caused Yuuri so much joy he could feel it tinglingl in the tips of his fingers and within his ribcage. He sent Viktor a message,

_The Tastiest Pork Cutlet: Just got in, should be home in maybe fifteen minutes?_

Then after a moment,

_The Tastiest Pork Cutlet: can’t wait to see you again :)_

Yuuri was working on expressing his feelings better. Yuuri hadn’t directly told Viktor he loved him for two years after they started dating. He hadn’t realized he needed to. Each day, from the very start, he and Viktor had been learning the cultural differences between the Japanese and Russians. In the wake of many incidents like this one, they learned slowly of how to compromise in order to bridge that gap.

As Yuuri left the airport he noticed it was snowing softly. It really shouldn’t have struck him that much. It was December in Russia. Yuuri had only been in Japan for a week and a half, but the contrast was so drastic compared to the mild weather in Hatetsu that he found himself pausing for a moment. It wasn't long before his face started going a little numb and he hailed a taxi to take him home.

The gentle snow was rapidly working itself into a flurry. By the time he was dropped off in front of their complex, the windshield wipers were beating furiously in a fruitless effort to repel the drift. Yuuri checked his phone once more as the driver pulled up along the curb. It was a little strange. Viktor hadn’t even read his texts yet. Yuuri figured it didn’t matter much either way, he would be seeing the man in less than five minutes. As Yuuri pulled his carry-on from the cab, he felt pinpricks of snowflakes dance across his face only to settle and melt against the warmth of his cheeks. His nose had already begun to get runny and he sniffled a bit as he waved to the driver and began to trudge up to the stately building.

Viktor had infamously expensive taste and their living situation certainly reflected that. Yuuri had managed to talk him down a smaller, early 20th-century affair on a quiet street somewhat close to both the airport and the rink. It was still a far cry from what Yuuri might have chosen for himself. Even so, history had proven that decisions Yuuri made with Viktor were infinitely superior to decisions made without. Somewhere between waking up to each other’s warmth and poor, well-intentioned attempts at homemade miso, this had become home.

Suddenly, Yuuri found himself on the ground. He laid flat on his back for a moment or two, confounded as to how he ended up here in the first place with fresh snow quickly melting to wet the seat of his jeans and a weight pressing in on his chest. Then he realized it was Makkachin. Makkachin was on top of him, barking at him. Yuuri tried to pet her as he sat up, grinning, but Makkachin scrambled off his chest, biting his pant leg and pulling. Hard. Even once Yuuri had stood, she didn’t let up. It was odd. He looked around, half expecting Viktor to be there, but the sidewalk was abandoned aside from himself. Something shifted uncomfortably inside him,

“Makkachin? What…” It didn’t make sense. Yuuri abandoned his carry on, on the sidewalk as he let the dog lead him into the building.

She bolted up the stairs and Yuuri pursued, close on her heels. When they arrived at the door of Yuuri and Viktor’s apartment it hung ominously, ajar. That thing in Yuuri churned again painfully, growing infinitely more uncomfortable by the second, like bile rising up in his throat to choke him. Makkachin was barking at the door but made no move to enter. Yuuri pushed it open instead.

“Viktor?” Yuuri called, resenting the obvious tremble in his voice. He knew he was probably being unreasonable. Yuuri was known for being unreasonable at times, too anxious. In this moment he prayed he was just being unreasonable. No response. Makkachin hung back in the doorway, silhouetted against the hallway lights. All of a sudden, Yuuri was hyper aware of how dark it was. Not a single light was on in the entrance of the apartment.

“Viktor?” Yuuri tried again, a little less calmly as he made his way to the living room. Yuuri immediately knew something was wrong. He knew it in the way that he knew he wasn’t in his own bed before he ever opened his eyes while staying at a hotel. He knew it in the way he knew when Viktor entered the room even if Yuuri had his back to the door. He knew it in the way he knew the exact moment when he was going to flub a jump as he was suspended in the air with one inevitable direction, earthward. He felt it in that twisted mass quickly coming to life in his stomach.

The living room was dark, even the curtains were drawn. Only thin, orange slivers of light escaped between their edges. Even suspended within the darkness he could see something shining murkily, reluctantly. He could smell something metallic like a one-hundred-yen coin and a little bit sweet. It lurked, wrong and unwelcome beneath the familiar lavender air freshener and laundry detergent. He didn’t even feel it as he reached out and flicked the lights on.

Viktor was on the floor.

Viktor was on the floor and there was blood.

A lot of blood.

More blood than Yuuri had ever seen in his entire life.

Viktor was on the floor and there was blood and it looked like his.

Viktor was bleeding on the rug they’d picked out together the day they moved in.

Viktor's eyes were closed.

Yuuri’s mind recoiled as his body sprung into action. In a matter seconds he had traversed the room to kneel over Viktor,

“Okay, okay, okay, okay” he began rambling all at once, too loudly. “Viktor?” this came out as barely a breath.

Remotely, he recognized that he was already crying. His heart beating as if emancipated from the responsibility of keeping him alive and his breath rasping desperately, so loud in his own ears, to keep up. Yuuri searched Viktor’s body. Oh, there was so much blood. Way too much. Did one person usually have this much blood in their body? How much could a person bleed before they had bled too much? Oh God. Through this flurry of thoughts Yuuri noticed that the blood seemed to be coming from Viktor’s chest. Near his heart. Or over his heart? Oh God. Numbly Yuuri unwrapped his scarf from his neck and with violently shaking hands pressed it over Viktor’s heart.

“Okay,” Yuuri said almost like a reminder as his mind scrambled for his first aid training and then floundered to place all the steps in the correct order. Yuuri was breathing way too fast. Breathing.

“Okay, okay” Yuuri repeated. He had to check if Viktor was breathing. Keeping his palms pressed over the scarf on Viktor’s chest Yuuri leant over the unconscious man, one ear close to the other man’s mouth. He prayed to every single god he knew the name of and probably the ones he didn’t too. For a second Yuuri thought he couldn’t hear anything, and a sob almost tore its way out of his rib cage.

Then faintly, he heard a slow breath, felt it barely even there, against the shell of his ear. His whole body shook with the force of the unvoiced sob as he took one hand off of Viktor to fumble for his phone in his pocket. He knew he had it, remembered checking for Viktor’s texts in the cab….

“Okay. Viktor, it’s okay Viktor. I’ll call the ambulance. I’m gonna call… okay” he rambled as he searched for his phone. He finally found it and somehow in spite of the tremors wracking his hands, Yuuri managed to dial 112,

“Hello, this is 112, what’s your emergency?” Crackled a woman’s voice in Russian, Yuuri had never understood the language with more clarity in his entire life,

“Um, uh, my, uh, my roommate. I came home and he – he’s bleeding. Um, he’s bleeding a lot. I think he was, stabbed?” The words sounded wrong coming out of his mouth, like they were just words and not something that had happened to Viktor.

“Okay, sir. We’re sending first responders to your location now. Is he responsive?”

“No, uh, he’s unconscious. I, uh, put my scarf on his chest. I mean over where he’s bleeding.”

“Okay, that’s good, continue to apply as much pressure as you can. Can you check if he’s breathing for me, sir?”

“I did before I called you, but um, I can check again…” Yuuri leant in once more. He listened for a moment. He couldn’t make anything, somehow his heartbeat became even wilder.

Yuuri might be dying too.

He could hear nothing. He looked at Viktor’s chest for a moment with blurred vision, confused. It didn’t make sense. He couldn’t see any movement. This time the sob really did manage to break free from him. For a long moment he thought he might faint. Reality was swimming dangerously. He dropped the phone to floor,

“Oh, oh my god, he’s not breathing anymore. He’s not breathing.”

Apparently, the dispatcher heard,

“Okay, sir. I need you to remain calm. Do you know how to perform CPR?” Yuuri nodded his head, immediately lacing his fingers together and pressing his palm over the center of Viktor’s chest before realizing she couldn't see him,

“Yes, I know. I know it.”

“Alright, that’s great. If he’s not breathing, you can begin CPR. I’m going to help you count, okay?” Yuuri nodded again, but corrected himself more quickly this time,

“Okay, okay, yeah. Go ahead. Hurry.” As she began counting Yuuri’s world narrowed down to her voice and the pressure of his hands against Viktor’s unmoving chest. It narrowed down to thirty chest compressions followed immediately by two resuscitative breathes. Thirty. Two. Thirty. Two. Thirty. Two. Thirty. Two. Thirty-

Then there was noise. A lot of noise and people’s hands on him and people standing all around Viktor and he was being pulled away and he didn’t understand what was going on. He didn’t understand what was going on because he was being led out of his own apartment by strangers. His carry on was still sitting on the sidewalk where he had left it, covered in snow. There were too many people and lights everywhere and he didn’t know where Makkachin was and Viktor had been bleeding and Viktor hadn’t been breathing and that made the least sense out of all of it.

It occurred to some small, hidden part of Yuuri that his life might be falling irrevocably apart right now.

Yuuri felt something cool press against his palm. He looked down to see that it was Makkachin pressing her snout into his hand. He was sitting on the bumper of an ambulance wrapped in a blanket. The dog looked stressed, her whole body shaking violently. Yuuri desperately wanted to comfort her, but he quickly found that he was unable to. This was primarily because Yuuri currently couldn’t breathe.

He realized it all at once and the knowledge of it made no difference. Yuuri's whole body seized up, fighting for air, and he could do nothing but endure it. He could barely see, but his eyes were glued to the entrance of the building. Viktor still hadn’t come out. After a minute, Yuuri tried to pet Makkachin, but the most he could manage was to put a hand on her head.

She was warm and that helped a little bit.

Through the panic attack Yuuri was vaguely aware of EMTs coming to check up on him, he wanted to ask them why they were checking on him. He was fine. He hadn’t been there when Viktor got hurt. He didn’t even know why Viktor was hurt. He just wanted them to fix Viktor.

Finally, more EMTs emerged from the building. There seemed to be thousands of them, like swarming ants, surrounding the building. It made him dizzy, at least more dizzy than he already was, to watch them as they moved about. As a gurney was rolled out of the building, Yuuri caught a glimpse of Viktor's silver hair and it immediately wretched his heart in two. Yuuri didn’t know when they had even brought the gurney in. Abruptly, even though Yuuri felt as if his body was being smashed apart into smaller and smaller pieces with each passing moment, he had the presence of mind to turn to the closest EMT and ask,

“Can I go with him? Can I ride in the ambulance? otherwise,” he tried desperately to explain, the adrenaline-enhanced expertise he had possessed with the Russian language earlier was quickly deteriorating, “otherwise, they’ll take him and I won’t know where he is.” It seemed like a silly thing to say once it had left his mouth, but Yuuri didn’t have any other words right now. The idea of Viktor, not breathing, in some hospital somewhere and Yuuri unable to find him was all-consuming. It tore up his insides with fresh vengeance. He didn’t know what he would do if they didn’t let him go with Viktor. Then he was following the EMT to the ambulance Viktor was being loaded into. She said something to the driver, the driver looked at Yuuri and said something else. They went back and forth for far too long and then finally the EMT turned to Yuuri, she seemed to be saying a lot, but all he understood was, 

“You can ride in the front.” Yuuri didn’t waste any time scrambling around the vehicle and clambering up into the passenger seat. It seemed like as soon as he was in the sirens began blaring, altogether too much, too loud. Then they were racing entirely too fast to a destination Yuuri didn’t understand.


	2. Chapter II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the hospital

Yuuri was cold.

He had spent about half an hour firmly planted in a deflated, beige armchair in the hospital's waiting room before arriving at this conclusion. Yuuri didn’t know how long he had been outside but the warm cab of the ambulance on the ride to the hospital had done nothing to thaw him out. Nor was the heater in the hospital of any use. He wondered distantly if it even worked. Yuuri was still wearing his coat and boots, but he no longer had his scarf and he had never been wearing gloves and he was shivering uncontrollably. To be honest, Yuuri wasn’t sure if that was the cold or just another barely suppressed panic attack.

Usually, when Yuuri started to feel things spiral, he would make a list of matters that were still within his control. This wasn’t usual by any stretch of the imagination. Making lists was for before competitions or when he couldn’t find his wallet or when his sister called him to tell him that his mother had a scared with her weak kidney, she would be okay, but it would be nice if he could drop by to visit for a week or so. This wasn’t any of those things.

This was coming home to find his life shattered on the floor when he hadn’t anticipated it breaking like that.

Yuuri often felt that he was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. Seeing as this wasn't the first time he found himself in a hospital waiting room this week, this may be it. The other thing Yuuri realized in the waiting room was that his hands were completely, confoundingly red. He rubbed them together and some of it flaked off. No. It was blood. they were covered in blood. Viktor’s blood. And Yuuri could smell it. That was enough to send him careening off the edge directly into the awaiting arms of that impending panic attack. His stomach churned dangerously. His body wasn’t satisfied with just shaking and suffocating and crying anymore. Before it hit in earnest, Yuuri rushed to the restroom.

He crash-landed into the last stall and promptly vomited into the toilet. He sat there for a while; shaking, vomiting, and crying in one miserable, infinite round until finally there was nothing except bitter mouthfuls of stomach bile left to choke up. Then he just laid there, arm propped on the toilet seat, forehead propped on arm. He couldn’t tell how long. Time seemed to have stopped working properly since he found Viktor. It would move deathly slow and then take off wildly at breakneck speed in odd intervals. Eventually, Yuuri got up and sat on the toilet. At least he could afford himself a little bit of dignity.

For a few minutes he tried to think, but his brain was loath to cooperate. It still hadn’t caught up to the part of the night where paramedics arrived at his home to take a not-breathing Viktor to the ER. So instead he left the stall and began scrubbing his hands in the sink. As the blood diluted into a more harmless pink going down the drain, Yuuri began to breathe a little easier. Surely Viktor had been breathing again when they left the apartment, or they wouldn’t have bothered to bring him to the hospital. He noticed stains on the cuffs of his coat sleeves and promptly removed the article. He took extra care in washing his ring, drying it thoroughly on the hem of his shirt. Replacing the cleaned ring, winking warmly in the harsh bathroom lights, Yuuri felt somewhat comforted. He tried very hard not think about how there might not be anyone to wear its pair anymore.

Instead he left the bathroom and thought about how he should call Yakov. That seemed like the right thing to do.

At least then Yuuri wouldn’t be going crazy by himself in the waiting room.

As he sat down once more, promptly shoving the stained coat underneath it, Yuuri realized that his phone was probably still lying on the living room floor in the apartment. For a moment he felt panic begin to press in, encroaching oppressively on his lungs once more. Then he realized he could probably use the hospital’s phone. They still had those, right? Yuuri hesitantly approached the front desk and managed to inquire about it. The receptionist set a dial-up phone in front of him. It didn't occur to Yuuri that he didn’t know Yakov’s phone number until he already had the receiver pressed to his ear.

It hit him like a brick wall - just how little he wanted to be alone in this moment. It already felt like if Viktor were gone then Yuuri would be alone in the whole of Russia. He wracked his brain for anything it would spare him. given it was already functioning at approximately twenty-five percent capacity, it wasn’t very forgiving. The only phone number Yuuri actually knew was Viktor’s. Well, Viktor’s and wait, Yuuri thought he had memorized Yurio’s phone number about a year ago when he accidentally dropped his phone in the pool in Manila and Yuri made him carry around a piece of paper with his number on it. Yuuri had never before felt that Yurio was anything close to an angel. But at this moment he may as well have been Michael himself.

Yuuri tried the phone number he had memorized, praying he still remembered it correctly,

“Who the hell is calling at five o’clock in the morning?” came Yuri’s grating voice and it was sweeter than any hymn Yuuri had heard drifting from an Eastern Orthodox chapel on a bitter Sunday morning in Russia. It may have even been sweeter than the Japanese lullabies Yuuri’s grandmother had sung him as a child.

“It’s Viktor. He - oh Yurio, he-” He sobbed,

“Pork Cutlet? What the hell? What’s going on?”

“Viktor. Yurio, Viktor, he wasn’t breathing. He wasn’t breathing and he was bleeding so much. And I’m at the hospital and I don’t – I don’t know what’s going on.” Yuuri didn’t want to breakdown like this in front of the entire waiting room and especially not in front Yurio, who was only eighteen, but he couldn’t really breathe right now.

“Wait. Wait. Hold on a minute Yuuri. You’re at the hospital? Which one? I’m coming. I’m coming, okay?” Yuri sounded almost angry, but most of Yuri’s feelings were anger. Yuuri had to ask the receptionist which hospital he was at and he nearly forgot to add,

“Bring Yakov.” Before hanging up.

Yuuri returned the phone to the receptionist and hovered indecisively around the desk for a few moments. Now that he had thrown out a lifeline and help was on the way he felt more clear-headed than he had in any single moment of this awful night. Yuuri wasn’t quite sure what to do with this newfound presence of mind. He didn’t have many options though. So Yuuri paced for a few minutes. And then he returned to his seat where he bounced his leg with his face in his hands for more than a few minutes.

In movies, it seemed like the doctor always came out moments after the family arrived at the hospital to reassure them that the victim was okay with placating phrases such as “stabilized” and “plenty of rest”. That was not reality. Yuuri chanced a glance at the clock and the emboldened, red numbers read 5:37 am. It was cold and impersonal, nearly malicious in its indifference to how the past two hours had rocked Yuuri’s entire world. Yuuri felt like he might start crying again though he desperately didn’t want to. Yuuri was so worried. And Yuuri was so tired. Jetlag rode neatly on the wave of exhaustion that comes after an adrenaline rush. He was so tired, but anxiety nipped at its heels so it could never truly settle into the cavity of his chest. Instead it remained. Uncomfortable beneath his skin. It was a fifty-pound veil over his being and it subdued every other emotion which attempted a debut. Nearly two hours and he hadn’t heard anything about Viktor’s condition. Yuuri tried to take comfort in the fact that if Viktor had passed then he probably would already know. Actually. Maybe he wouldn’t. Yuuri didn’t know much about the Russian healthcare system.

In the past two years he had only went into a family practice for regular checkups and strep once. He had no idea how hospitals worked. At least Yuuri knew that Viktor had put him down as an emergency contact, but he didn’t know what emergency contacts were used for in Russia. He had never thought to ask Viktor. Which seemed so short-sighted now. Viktor was the man Yuuri had begun to let himself think about spending the rest of his life with. It was plain idiocy to believe that nothing would ever happen to them.

Something always happened.

That much Yuuri had learned in twenty-six trips around the sun.

So, he should’ve seen it when things were going well for them. He should’ve seen that something would swing in from nowhere to wreck them. He couldn’t believe that he was beginning to think of Viktor as his soulmate and life partner and he couldn’t have even seen something like this coming. Still, no matter how determined Yuuri's conscience was to assign blame to himself, it was a difficult train of thought to pursue for long. Yuuri didn't even know what precisely had happened to Viktor yet, so he didn't know what precisely he should've foreseen and thus failed to prevent.

What Yuuri’s lack of foresight came down to now though was this: even if he was Viktor’s emergency contact, he didn’t know how much they might tell him. The idea that Viktor might already be gone, and he had no way of knowing was suffocating.

“Yuuri Katsuki?” He heard someone call.

“Excuse me, sir.” After realizing that someone was talking to him, Yuuri glanced up. It was a police officer. A young woman with fawn brown hair and a surprisingly gentle face. She couldn’t have been much older than Viktor. Try as he might, Yuuri couldn’t puzzle together why she was talking to him. Oh, what if they thought he was the one who hurt Viktor? He couldn’t take that.

“Ah, yes. Sorry. That’s me.” He noticed now that there were three other officers with her, though they stood back a little. She tilted her chin as if approving, and somehow it made Yuuri feel better.

“Hello, I’m officer Lagunov, I’m with the Moskovsky police department. You are the co-tenant of Kozlov unit four, correct?” Yuuri nodded and she continued, “We are investigating the attack of your roommate, Viktor Nikiforov. At the moment we’re gathering evidence in your apartment. As such we must ask you to remain away from the scene for the time being,” something in Yuuri stung sharply at the phrase, too close to ‘crime scene’,

“we will inform you as soon as we have concluded our investigation. We noticed that your cellphone seems to have been left in the apartment, is there another number we can reach you at?” Yuuri immediately nodded,

“Yeah, my friend,” and gave her Yuri’s number. He hoped the younger man didn’t mind. She nodded approvingly again and then with something too close to sympathy in her eyes she said,

“If it’s alright with you, we would like to take your statement now. We believe that this was most likely a robbery and as you were the first on the scene, it would help us to hear your account.” A robbery. Yuuri was somewhat baffled. He hadn’t even noticed anything amiss in the living room, just that Viktor was on the floor, injured.

“Additionally,” Yuuri realized the policewoman was still speaking to him, “we found your suitcase on the sidewalk outside of the apartment. We thought you may like to have it as it’s not needed for the investigation.” Yuuri nodded again and said,

“Thank you, that’d be great. I can give you my testimony now. Just – whatever you need from me.”

“Thank you Mr. Katsuki, please follow me then.” As the woman and one of the other officers led him into a small office, Yuuri felt profoundly grateful. He had already made a show of himself multiple times to the other occupants of the waiting room over the course of the past two hours and was reluctant to do it again. Yuuri emerged from the office about half an hour later, ready to sleep for the next two months. Nevertheless, it seemed that the night, now morning he supposed, had more excitement in store for Yuuri Katsuki.

Yurio and Yakov had arrived. Yurio looked two poorly placed words away from starting a fist fight with the doctor he was speaking to. Speaking was a loose term.

“Why the hell not? Viktor doesn’t have any family. Who the hell are you gonna tell if you don’t tell us?” Yuuri could hear the younger from across the room. As Yuuri approached all three men, Yakov, Yurio, and the doctor turned to look at him.

“Yuuri,” Yurio began and Yuuri almost expected him to inform Yuuri of just how cruddy he looked at the moment, instead the boy said, “Aren’t you his emergency contact or something? Get it through this man’s head that nobody else is gonna be showing up for Viktor anytime soon.” At this moment if looks could kill, the doctor would have been violating his Hippocratic oath,

“Typically,” he began and then louder, “typically, we only inform family members of patient conditions. However, Mr. Nikiforov’s case is somewhat unusual. You’re Yuuri Katsuki?”

“Yes. I’m his roommate, he doesn’t have any family.” Yuuri lied. He wanted to tell the doctor that he was Viktor’s fiancé. He was legitimately his family, as good as a wife if only Russia would recognize it. Except Yuuri knew how slim the chance was that any Russian accepted gay relationships. Yurio and Yakov were something of unicorns in this respect. If the doctor didn’t feel very amicable towards people like them, Yuuri was terrified of how it might reflect on Viktor’s treatment.

“I’m Dr. Markov. I’m overseeing Viktor Nikiforov treatment this morning. Since you’re listed as Mr. Nikiforov’s emergency contact I can disclose his condition to you. Would you like to step somewhere more private?” It may have just been Yuuri’s exhausted mind or the fact that Dr. Markov’s face held uncanny resemblance to a gnarled knot on a tree where a branch had been belatedly pruned years ago, but he swore Dr. Markov seemed irritated when Yuuri asked,

“If it’s alright, can they hear it as well?” Even if the doctor was annoyed Yuuri found, surprisingly, that he didn’t have it in him to care.

“Yes, that’s fine…” The doctor sighed. He unfolded a tiny pair of glasses from his pocket, huffed onto the lenses a few times, removed a tiny cloth, wiped them off, and only then put them on with all the urgency of a man who was probably looking at Yachting groups for retired professionals during his breaks. Finally, he peered down at a clipboard he was carrying.

“At the moment, Mr. Nikiforov is stable. He suffered a severe puncture wound to the left side of his chest which collapsed his lung. We’ve already inserted a tube into the affected lung to remove excess air between the lung and ribs as well as to inflate the lung. I know this may sound scary, but it’s common procedure in cases such as that of Mr. Nikiforov. We’re monitoring him constantly and the treatment should be completed within the next few days.”

Also, as he lost a lot of blood on the way here, we were required to give Mr. Nikiforov a blood transfusion. Again, so far, he hasn’t had an adverse reaction to the blood, but we will continue to monitor him for any. These were our two largest concerns. Other than this it seems Mr. Nikiforov has some minor scrapes and bruises, as well as three fractured ribs most likely incurred during CPR.” The man paused for a moment, and Yuuri thought he may have spotted a hint of pity in the man’s voice as he continued,

“Something you should be aware of is that Mr. Nikiforov may have suffered brain damage when his oxygen flow was limited. I don’t want to worry you too much; he was resuscitated very quickly. However, we won’t know anything regarding his neurological condition until he regains consciousness. Due to this, as well as the treatment he is currently undergoing for his lung, we’ll be keeping Mr. Nikiforov in the ICU for the time being.” Finally, the doctor finished. They all remained silent for a moment.

Yuuri was glad because everything was currently crashing down on him. Viktor was alive. Yes, there was the stipulation that he may not be functioning at full capacity, but Yuuri was too relieved by the mere fact that Viktor was alive at all to care much yet. This was all that kept him afloat, that kept his knees from buckling as the realization that he had believed Viktor dead for the past few hours hit like a tsunami. It was this sentiment that revived the simmering anxiety which had taken up residence in Yuuri’s gut, even as the anxiety itself seemed to wish to be laid to rest. However, the last time Yuuri had seen Viktor, the man hadn’t been breathing. An image Yuuri didn’t think he’d ever forget. He needed to see Viktor, breathing, before he could let go of the feeling that he too was dying. Before either Yurio or Yakov could comment, Yuuri asked,

“Can I see him?” He didn’t care if Viktor was unconscious. He just needed to see his chest move and his face clean of blood. The doctor’s jaw clenched subtly,

“Tonight?” Yuuri nodded at the man's clarification,

“Unfortunately, no. Visitor hours don’t begin until 8:00 am and even if you are his emergency contact, we only allow family members to visit patients in the ICU. Regrettably, you’ll have to wait until Mr. Nikiforov is moved to the recovery ward to make any personal visits.” Yuuri was at a loss for words. How long would it be before Viktor was moved from the ICU? Would Viktor have to be alone when he woke up?

“Bull. Shit.” Yurio said from next to Yuuri, “I already told you, Viktor’s got no family. We’re all there is! The man almost fucking died tonight, and you want us to sit on our asses until you feel like moving him to another room in the hospital?” The doctor looked like he was quickly losing his patience. Normally Yuuri would’ve felt bad, he was probably tired, and he was saving peoples lives. He had saved Viktor’s life. Yet at the moment Yuuri was inclined to side with Yurio,

“Please! We won’t stay for long. Can I just – just check on him?” He tried. The doctor remained unresponsive so Yuuri opened his mouth to make another attempt. Yurio looked prepared to do the same. Then Yuuri felt a hand clamp down on the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry. We’re all tired here and worried.” Yakov. He began to pull Yuuri and Yurio, whose collar he had captured with his other hand, away from the doctor. Yuuri hadn’t even realized how much they were encroaching on his space in the first place.

“I’ll leave my phone number with the front desk and take these two home. We’re all relieved to hear that Viktor is doing alright.” Then he led the two younger men to the front desk and did just as he said, instructing the receptionist to contact them if there was any news on Viktor before leading the two younger men out of the hospital. He only paused to scoop up Yuuri's discarded coat from its residence beneath his seat and grab his suitcase. Once they were all seated in Yakov’s car, Yuuri in the passenger seat and Yurio in the back, Yakov finally addressed them directly,

“You two should know better than to cause trouble like that. You’re grown men. Especially you Yuuri. I know you’ve been through a lot tonight,” A feeling began to simmer in Yuuri that he didn’t often feel, anger. It pissed him off that Yakov spoke about it so simply. Yuuri hadn’t been through 'a lot', he had almost witnessed the death of the love of his life. His hands had been coated in Viktor’s blood, he had broken Viktor’s ribs trying to resuscitate him, he seen Viktor’s unmoving chest, he had watched as paramedics put his beloved Viktor in an ambulance and taken him to the hospital because he was dying. Yuuri had, had one panic attack after another until the whole night felt like one long marathon at the end of which he would die. Suddenly, Yuuri was so angry with Yakov that he couldn’t speak, which was probably for the best because the words Yakov said next smothered that anger with a fresh, thick blanket of panic,

“Right now, the best thing you can do, Yuuri, is take care of Makkachin and get some rest.” Makkachin. How could Yuuri ever forget about Makkachin, who didn’t even know what was going on, who had looked to Yuuri for comfort? Yuuri tried to remember what had happened to Makkachin between the EMTs and ambulances. His heart rate picked up when he came up empty,

“Yakov. We have to go back to my apartment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one in the books! Thank you all so much for commenting, leaving kudos, and bookmarking this little Fanfic of mine. I'm really glad to see that some of you are enjoying it! I'm enjoying writing it.  
> Also, sorry if this chapter was a little slower, I just really wanted to capture the frustration of dealing with a cruddy healthcare system... more on that later. Also, I wanted to hone in on some of the feelings Yuuri's experiencing initially.  
> Thanks again for reading! Hopefully the next chapter will be out in no time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri needs to find Makkachin.

Yuuri sprung from the car before Yakov even had the opportunity to fully park it. He cast a wild look over the street. The snow had slowed to a quiet drift now, the ideal kind that happened frequently in Holiday movies and rarely in reality. It rendered the world white and low contrast in the yellow glow of streetlights. The December sun in St. Petersburg wouldn't rise until ten. It was so quiet.

Any evidence an ambulance had been parked in front of the building three hours prior was well erased. Alongside any traces of an elderly poodle. There were still two police cars parked on the curb, one of which was running with snow melting sluggishly off its windshield. Yuuri began trudging towards it, snow soaking steadily into the toes of his boots. 

“Yuuri!” It was Yakov, he and Yuri had gotten out of the car. Yakov was holding Yuuri’s coat up in one hand. Yuuri shook his head before the older man could go on,

“I can’t wear it. It’s got blood on it.” Yakov squinted dubiously at the article. Yuuri knew he wouldn’t be able to see it in the dim light. The man had just gotten reading glasses a month ago because his eyesight had deteriorated so badly. Yakov shook his head after a moment and begrudgingly handed the coat to Yuri who seemed to affirm Yuuri’s statement. The two shared a look. 

Yuuri’s mind supplied him with an image of Viktor, sitting across from him at their kitchen table in sweatpants and a well-worn Hatetsu castle hoodie, complaining about how close Yakov and Yurio had become recently. Of Yuuri boldly joking that Viktor was just jealous that Yuri had stolen his dad. Of teasingly asking Viktor if he wasn’t satisfied with Yuuri. Yuuri resolved to return to the hospital tomorrow. Or today. In the afternoon. He needed to see Viktor. After he found Makkachin. He would find Makkachin because he couldn’t imagine telling Viktor that he had lost their dog while he was dying in the hospital.

“Alright, well, at least go look for her inside. Yuri and I will look around out here.” Yuuri hesitated for a moment and then nodded, heading for the building. He was already standing at the doors’ when he realized that he would be taking a premature trip to some very negative feelings. When Yuuri climbed to the top of the second floor landing, he could see that the hall around their apartment had been taped off. Two officers stood in front of the door, making incredibly unenthusiastic small talk. Yuuri would’ve hesitated to approach them, but they both noticed him and quieted as soon as he came to the top stair. Yuuri guessed he didn’t really need to hear what they thought of how it was meant to snow all day anyway. 

“Um. I’m sorry, but I live here.” He gestured at the taped off door as he neared the officers, “I’ve already given a statement and everything. I was just wondering. Have you seen a dog? She’s a poodle. Brown. About this big,” he tried to approximate Makkachin’s height with a hand, “She would have a collar with her name and the address for this building. She’s very friendly.” The officers glanced at each other and one said,

“Sorry. We haven’t seen any dogs, but we haven’t been here for very long. Maybe you can ask your neighbors?” Yuuri’s heart sped up, he knew they probably wouldn’t know where she was. Makkachin wouldn’t have returned to the apartment if she had been outside with Yuuri. Makkachin was old and this was probably more shock than she could handle. 

He nodded at the officers before turning to walk over to the door across the hall. When his neighbors answered their door, he apologized for waking them up and spoke with them briefly. They didn’t know where Makkachin had gone, but they had seen the ambulance hours earlier and hadn’t known that it was for Viktor and Yuuri’s apartment. They were sorry to hear that something had happened and looked very eager to hear more. Yuuri didn’t have any hard feelings towards these particular neighbors, but their flippant attitude towards his crisis was something he didn’t have the patience for. He left after disclosing as little information as possible. 

Then he went to their next door neighbors. They were an older couple, most of the residents in the building were. That or well-off young couples. This couple had, had Viktor and Yuuri over for dinner twice. The wife would often wave to them when they left for runs in the morning and she was letting their dog, a tiny creature of ambiguous origins with a Napoleonic disposition, out to use the bathroom.

He was sure they would get along even better if he could understand her. As it stood Yuuri was from a foreign country overseas and the couple had lived most of their life in Southern Russia where the need for English was negligent and the pronunciation of many words just different enough to trip him up. Now that he thought about it, she probably understood him even less than he did her. He was surprised when the very woman answered after his second knock. 

“Oh dear… don’t mind… dog…. Now…. See…” The woman seemed excited to see him, so Yuuri took that as a good sign. Before she could finish speaking Makkachin came skidding through the entryway to barrel into Yuuri for the second time that morning. Yuuri knelt to wrap his arms around Makkachin’s heaving body,

“I’m so sorry Makkachin.” He buried his face into her neck. “I’m sorry.” He pet her ears and let the familiar feel of her fur calm him down. He didn’t know how long he sat on the ground with Makkachin, but it was long enough that he felt a little embarrassed when he stood again. Yuuri was suddenly all too aware of the fact that his eyes were sore and most certainly swollen and red. Not to mention he was only wearing a light sweatshirt when it was below zero outside.  
He realized the woman was saying something to him. He pressed his palm to the side of Makkachin’s neck as he tried to listen. 

“Alexei heard the ambulance…. Seemed quite out of it…. We fed her… hope Viktor’s… sweet young man….” When she had finished, Yuuri thought he probably got the gist and tried to recall ever interacting with the woman while waiting for the paramedics to bring Viktor out of the apartment. It seemed that she had come up to him to offer to watch Makkachin. Although he was still ashamed of his own inattention, Yuuri felt a new sense of gratitude towards the woman,

“Thank you, really. I didn’t mean to trouble you.” Yuuri stood up now,

“Oh, that’s alright…. just… Viktor?” 

“He’s alright. I haven’t seen him yet…” Yuuri swallowed dryly, “but the doctor said he should be okay, they got him there in time and he’s resting for now.” He knew he was sugar-coating it, but he didn’t want to worry anyone needlessly. The woman nodded and smiled warmly at him,

“Have to…. Send food…” 

“You really don’t have to. This is already enough, I’m grateful that you looked after Makkachin.” It was bizarre. Talking so casually with his neighbor at this time. Especially since his exhaustion was finally starting to hit him. Hard. Yuuri thought he might finally come to understand what it’s like to fall asleep standing up. He was so tired that he entirely missed what the woman said,

“I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?” Yuuri asked. She just shook her head and disappeared into the apartment. She left the door open so Yuuri assumed she would return. He looked at his feet awkwardly and pet Makkachin’s head, absent-minded, trying to stay awake. He wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

“Yuuri!” Yuuri’s eyes snapped open, he looked up to see Yakov and Yuri standing at the top of the stairs. Both of their eyes immediately went to Makkachin.

"You found her?” The two men walked to join Yuuri at his neighbor’s door. Yuri crouched to pet Makkachin. Yakov looked at the open door and then at Yuuri quizzically. 

“I guess I let the neighbors take her before I left for the hospital.” 

“You don’t remember?” 

“No, I don’t really remember much after…” Yuuri trailed off awkwardly and Yakov didn’t pry. Instead he simply nodded and gripped Yuuri’s shoulder with one warm hand. In any other circumstance this probably would’ve felt odd, Yuuri wasn’t as close with Yakov as Yuri or Viktor, but right now it felt grounding. The woman returned laden with a big cloth bag. She looked at Yuri and Yakov,

“Some of our friends.” Yuuri explained as she handed him the bag. He accepted it, even though he wasn’t really sure what it was. Food, maybe?

“Food.” She explained simply and then before he could say anything else, “Take care of yourselves.” 

“Thank you.” It came out shaky. He would have to treat her to lunch once this was all over. She nodded to Yakov and Yuri before closing the door.  
What now? Yuuri couldn’t go back to his apartment, he didn’t have any of Makkachin’s stuff, he didn’t have any of his stuff. He looked to Yakov. 

“You can stay at my place.” Yakov said simply. Yuuri already somewhat knew that, that was how all of this would turn out, but it felt good to hear it. He was so grateful not to be alone. He tried and failed not to think about how Viktor was in a worse state and had no one. He tried and failed not to think about how Viktor may be waking up right now; not knowing where he was, in pain, all alone and Yuuri should be there with him. He tried and failed not to think that if this was Japan then he would be by Viktor’s side right now. 

“Pork cutlet? Hey dumbass, you asleep?” Yuuri felt a sharp pain in his ear. Yuri had pinched him. He looked at the younger man, “Let’s go, I’m fucking exhausted.” Yuuri nodded dumbly and followed them back to Yakov’s car. 

The drive to Yakov and Yuri’s apartment was silent. Yuuri sat in the back seat now, Makkachin next to him and the food in his lap. With the gentle rocking of the car, the warm air blowing from the vent, and Makkachin’s heat pressed to his side Yuuri began to nod off. 

“Yuuri, hey.” Yuri’s voice was unusually gentle, Yuuri’s opened his eyes groggily and looked up at the boy. “We’re here.” Yuuri looked out the window to confirm. Sure enough, he saw the familiar building. It was newer than Yuuri and Viktor’s with a orderly and minimalist exterior. Yakov killed the engine. Yuuri was blasted with a gust of freezing air as Yuri opened his door to get out. That woke him up more. 

As they walked to the building, Yuuri felt a little guilty for making Yakov carry his suitcase in the snow. It wasn’t very heavy, but certainly inconvenient with all the snow. However, Yuuri was holding the bag in one hand and held onto Makkachin’s collar with the other. He knew she wouldn’t run, but it made him feel better. They entered the building in silence, rode the elevator in silence, went into the apartment in silence. Yakov set Yuuri’s luggage down next to the kitchen table and finally said,

“Well, all we can do is get some rest. Yuuri you can take the guest room; do you want to take a shower?” If Yakov had asked Yuuri that after he’d gotten off the plane, an eternity ago, Yuuri would’ve accepted in a heartbeat. He still felt gross, but he shook his head. 

“I think I just need to sleep.” 

“Alright, I’ll let you know if the hospital calls. They might call you first though.” 

Yuuri shook his head again, “My phone is back home. I left it when we went to the hospital. The police said they’ll return it when they’ve finished collecting evidence,” Then Yuuri remember, “Ah, sorry Yuri, I gave the police your number when they took my statement. So they might call you-“

“That’s fine.” Yuri said resolutely. 

“Evidence of what?” Yakov asked, he sounded genuinely surprised. Yuuri realized that Yakov and Yuri had no idea what had happened beyond that Viktor was in the hospital. Gratitude flooded Yuri’s chest as he looked at the two of them. They had taken this so well, had been such a comfort to him while anxious and uncertain themselves. They must feel so much more helpless than he did. He owed it to them to explain.

“They think it was a robbery.” He watched their expressions transform. Yakov’s brow furrowed, the wrinkles around his mouth and eyes deepened. Yuri’s brows moved down as well, but his eyes widened minutely and his jaw clenched. Yuuri could recognize his own feelings reflected in their faces: fear, concern, and above all confusion. 

“How?” Yuri was the first to speak. Yuuri just shrugged. They were silent for a moment

“As I said, let’s sleep. We can’t do anything at the moment.” Yakov spoke calmly, but he still looked troubled.

“Okay.” Yuuri agreed. He didn't wait for someone else to speak before grabbing his carry-on and turning to make his way to the guest room. He already knew where it was. Yuuri and Viktor had crashed there many times before: after practice, when they came over to drink with Yakov, or on Yuri’s eighteenth birthday when they took him out to bar-hop. He'd gotten blackout drunk and vomited on Viktor’s favorite shoes. Viktor and Yuuri hadn’t let him live it down, in the most affectionate way possible, since. 

Yuuri remembered being a little tipsy, lying with Viktor in the bed of the guest room, making him listen to a playlist of ABBA’s greatest hits because Yuuri’s mom loved them and getting drunk made him a little homesick sometimes. Also, he hadn’t been able to believe that Viktor had never been introduced to the pure, unadulterated joy of 'Super Trouper'. He remembered Viktor’s boyish laugh as Yuuri had leaped from the bed to perform a dramatic rendition of 'The Winner Takes It All' for him. It hurt. He flopped face forward into the bed. Rolling over ungracefully he found Makkachin watching him from the end of the bed.

“I’m sorry, Makkachin. You’ve had a tough time tonight, too.” He stood and lifted he onto the bed. She’d had hip surgery about a year ago and couldn’t get up on beds or couches on her own since. When he laid back down, she shifted to press to his side. He kissed her muzzle,

“I’m so sorry. You’ve been so good and you’re probably even more confused than I am.” He stroked a hand down her back, feeling the familiar curls. She was due for a haircut soon. “It’ll be okay though, I promise. I’ll take care of you, both of you, no matter what. No matter how old you are or if Viktor isn’t the same, I’ll take care of you.” He laid there with her for a while. The quiet was oppressive. 

The Katsuki’s weren’t a particularly loud clan, but they were friendly. Neighbors rotated through their doors every night of the week to drink or watch sports games or share meals or sometimes all three. Growing up in an onsen, even a small one, meant someone was always around. Even when Yuuri had left Japan to come live with Viktor, things were never quiet. 

Viktor could be gentle, could be quiet, could be calm, but he was a big person. Not physically. Rather, he was just one of those people that filled up whatever room he was in, not oppressively, not irritatingly. He made every room feel alive. He made people want to be their best. He made people feel wanted. Life was simply more with Viktor. Yuuri had been awe-struck by it at first, now he was comforted by it. 

Yuuri hadn’t felt it in over a week, had been dangerously close to never feeling it again. God, he wanted to see Viktor. He would go back to the hospital tomorrow. Yuuri got up, startling Makkachin,

“Sorry, I’m just going to get changed. I’ll be back.” Yuuri crouched by his suitcase to unzip it. When he opened it, he was hit with the smell of incense and the laundry detergent his father had used since Yuuri was a child. He picked out a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt. He pressed his face to the shirt for a moment, it was comforting. It made him want to cry a little. He was too tired to cry again though and his eyes were sore. Yuuri changed quickly and rejoined Makkachin on the bed. Even though she was laying down, she didn’t look like she going to sleep anytime soon.  
There was a soft knock at the door. 

“Can I come in?” Yuri’s voice was muffled through the door. 

“Yeah.” Yuuri wasn’t sure if he was surprised or not. As independent and tough as he was, Yuri had always been most comforted by being with others when things were hard.

Yuuri remembered when Yuri was sixteen and he’d had a bad collision with another skater during warm-up immediately before an important competition. He recalled how tightly the boy had gripped Yuuri’s arm as they checked him for a concussion and as they disinfected the cut above his brow and flushed the blood from his eye.  
Yuri entered almost timidly and hovered in the doorway awkwardly. Yuuri peered at him for a moment. 

He’d gotten taller since they’d first met. He was taller than both Viktor and Yuuri now. He was still slender, but he’d definitely filled out and grown into his body. Yet, he looked so small right now with his eyes cast to the ground. 

“Come here, Yurio.” Yuuri said. Yuri didn’t have to be asked twice, he came and sat down next to Yuuri. 

“Viktor is going to be okay. We’ll be okay.” Yuri’s head snapped up. He was glaring at Yuuri.

“You – you don’t get to say that!” 

“What?” Yuuri was honestly surprised.

“I came in here to comfort you! You don’t get to comfort me! Fuck!” Yuri lowered his head again and wiped at his eyes with his sleeve suspiciously. Yuuri would’ve laughed if any other part of this situation was humorous. 

“Yuri…” 

“You’re his fiancé! It’s okay to cry. You don’t have to hold back, or anything…” Now Yuuri actually did chuckle, mostly out of surprise. He gestured to his own face.

“Um, Yurio, if you couldn’t tell. I did cry. A lot. I’ll probably cry again. Right now, I’m just tired.” Yuri eyed him suspiciously, his eyes were shiny. Yuuri opened his arms. Yuri eyed him for a moment more, then folded into them. It felt good, to hug someone, even if it reminded him of how Viktor was alone. 

They were silent for a while. Yuri held tightly onto the front of his shirt. Yuuri held tightly onto the younger man. 

“Just because I’m his fiancé doesn’t mean I’m the only one who gets to be hurt. Viktor is important to you too. He loves you like a brother.” Yuuri chuckled again and then said, “I’m pretty sure he’ll be offended if you don’t cry for him at least a little anyway.”

A muffled whimper suddenly emerged from the boy. As if he couldn’t be silent anymore. Makkachin’s lifted her head to look and then got up to circle them. Yuuri rubbed a hand over his trembling back. He let the boy cry for as long as he needed. 

By the time Yuri let go to scrub his face with his hands, Yuuri shoulder had been thoroughly wetted. He didn’t mind. 

“Do you want to sleep here?” Yuuri asked because he wanted Yuri to stay and because he suspected that the boy wanted the same. Yuri just nodded, still covering his eyes with his hands. Yuuri got up to turn off the lights. By the time he returned to the bed Yuri had already curled up with one arm around Makkachin and Yuuri had to circle around the bed to avoid climbing over them. He didn’t mind. 

Once Yuuri had joined them under the covers he waited a moment before saying quietly,

“I’m just glad I have you here, Yuri. I couldn’t handle this alone. Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been a few months.... but, I have not abandoned this work! I just got distracted for a little bit. I'll try to get the rest of the story out in the next week or so since I'll be starting school soon and will have literally no time to do anything, but cry over essays. 
> 
> Again, this chapter was somewhat slow, but I wanted to draw out the ~suspense~ and give Yuuri and Yuri their moment. Will Viktor be okay? What does brain damage mean for him? Find out next time. 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are infinitely appreciated and thank you so much for reading. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hopefully this wasn't terrible. I've never written a fanfic before, but I was just struck by some sudden inspiration. Let me know if you enjoyed it! Also sorry for any inaccuracies, I don't live in Russia so all my information comes from Google.
> 
> Hopefully I can get the next chapter out by the end of the week. Thanks again for reading :)


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